Posted by admin on January 30, 2009
Some things are not right.
Avoid them to be happy.
Simple words for simple people.
Words from men who lived God’s way.
Men whose church had no steeple,
But knew to miss to road that’s straight.
Temptations come by day and night.
Avoid them to be happy.
Simple words from those who know
The darkness that follows sin.
Words to help others grow
Without bringing more darkness in.
Many things will help give life.
Do them to be happy.
Words from great biographies
Built around lives of work
To rewrite world histories;
Words that change other words.
Good deeds make people bright.
Do them to be happy.
Words of common sense
Buried in the souls of men,
Words of hard earnestness,
Written to change the hearts of men.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
Posted by admin on January 28, 2009
Live and serve,
Love and give.
Charity He taught us.
Pain and hate,
Spite and hurt
have grief and sorrow brought us.
Work until the work is done.
Love until love alone goes on.
Suffer for His suffering.
Try. Do impossible things.
When all is done,
Through and through,
Hope will come, the strife will end.
The new age begin.
Millenial hope will come,
Born up to the first resurrection.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
Posted by admin on January 26, 2009
The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.
A faint smell of brimstone tingled my nose as I nudged the wizard awake. I heard Iven move in the shadows and I knew that whatever waited out there could tell exactly where we hid. Whatever it was moved with absolute silence. The eyes had disappeared, but now the smell grew subtly stronger, or at least more definite, but I couldn’t locate it with only a smell.
“It’s over there,” whispered Iven as he pointed to a patch of darkness between two tall pines. I looked but couldn’t see anything more than shadows. Very little starlight filtered down to us and the moon was less than half full. Iven drew back his bow and loosed an arrow in that direction.
Suddenly a shrieking scream of a girl or woman ripped through the night. Terror clutched at my heart, and I watched, transfixed as a jet of fire erupted from the shadows towards our camp. At the last instant I had enough instinct left to jump into the bushes and out of the way of the flames. On the heels of the fire came a bellowing roar and screech, like a great bear cackling in the wind. Again a woman’s scream broke the air, this time more clear.
“It has someone,” called Iven. “Whatever it is, it has a prisoner.” For a man who had sense and cunning around a forge, Iven sometimes lost his head in the heat of battle. He plunged recklessly after the beast, whatever it might be, brandishing his hammer. In my recklessness and youth I followed without hesitation, eager to not be left behind. Pascalli continued to snore peacefully even as the camp around us began to burn. Wizards have a way of ignoring trouble that isn’t great enough for them to have an interest in, and I trusted he could manage quite well without us.
By the light of the burning tree behind me I saw the back of a horse, or at least what appeared to be a horse. In that quick moment I shot an arrow, trying at least to wound the creature and slow it down. It’s hard to say, and Iven often argued with me later that it was actually his arrow that wounded the creature, but at least one of us must have. I don’t see how he could have hit it since he fired into complete darkness, while I had a clear shot. I know I didn’t miss. Maybe we both hit it. My shot was answered with another spout of flame and more growls, though more distant and the fire was much easier to dodge this time. The woman had taken up a constant whimpering now, but even with that we were only able to track it a few hundred meters before darkness swallowed it and we lost the trail.
Angry and tired, we made our way back to camp. “Did you see that, lad,” commented Iven. “I hit it a clean shot there. A bit tricky with all the fire, though.”
“I think I hit it,” I replied. “I had a clear view of the hind end. Did you see the woman?”
“No, but I’m sure she’s alive. I only hope she’s still alive in the morning.” His tone was grim.
“Do you think it will be safe to track? What if there are more of them?” I hoped I didn’t sound as frightened as I felt. Chasing things in the dark was brash and bold, but now that my blood had cooled I didn’t think it wise to pursue more trouble than I needed.
“Safe or not, I’m going after it,” said the smith. “Somewhere that woman has a family who wants to know about her. If she’s alive then she deserves better than being a meal to some fire breathing beast. If she’s dead, she deserves a proper ritual.”
“Who deserves a proper ritual,” rang the familiar voice of Pascalli when we reached camp. “I see you’ve left me here to burn while you went for a hike.”
“I tried to wake you,” I said, but obviously he was already angry beyond consolation. I looked around the campsite. The fire had not spread to other trees.
The early spring dampness had held back the potential blaze, though I knew that in dryer weather the entire mountainside could have burned.
“You I can understand,” he said to me. “You are still young enough to be excused for foolishness.” He turned to Iven. “But you have no business being a fool.”
“My business is my own,” replied Iven gruffly. “My neck is my own to risk. Whatever it is, it has a captive, and I mean to rescue her.”
Suddenly Pascalli’s eye’s lit with the knowing sparkle that they always did when he came upon some secret joy. “Oh, ho, a woman is it? Ho, ho, ho, indeed. And what would you do with her if you caught her?” He was laughing now almost uncontrollably. “Keep her in a sack? Trade her for a bag of meal?”
Iven merely glared at the wizard and squeezed the haft of his hammer until I felt certain it would crack. “I hunt at first light,” he said. “Come or stay as you will.” The smith grabbed his bedroll and flung it down, in an instant he pretended to sleep.
“Oh, I’ll come,” said Pascalli. “I should like to see the entertainment.” He gave me a wink. “Besides, I think our young charge will want a hand in the fun, and he’s a much better tracker than you.” Seeing that he could not goad Iven any further, Pascalli gave up. “I’ll take watch then, you two will need your rest.”
I didn’t sleep much after that. It’s hard enough to sleep on rough ground on a cold night, even after you’ve done it for a long time, but I was still shaken and more than a little excited. When the first light began to appear with the melting shadows, even before the sun crested the peaks, Iven had roused himself and began searching for the trail. I at least took the time to eat some dried meat and saddle my horse properly. Whatever we were following wouldn’t go on foot, and I saw no use charging off unprepared. Even when hunting the wild pigs and goats that roamed near my farm at home we never went far without horses and provisions. I could see that Pascalli had tried to warn Iven, not just goad him.
“You’ll need this,” I called. I handed Iven the reigns to his horse and gave him a strip of meat. Pascalli rode close behind, smiling as if nothing had happened the night before.
“Rain may be coming,” he commented. “The summer will be wet.”
“Good, then the crops here will do well, if they can be planted early enough.” In the back of my mind I knew he was telling me that we had only so much time before all tracks and signs washed away. “Stay close, and look for blood.”
We followed the blood trail easily. At least one of us had wounded it, but we couldn’t tell who had done the damage as neither of our arrows turned up. At one point the creature must have fallen over, but the trail continued from the broken undergrowth. We tracked it up a steep slope towards a rocky outcropping. Other signs of the animal became more apparent as well. It had stripped several trees of their bark, like a bear will do to sharpen its claws. The marks stretched much higher than a man could reach and cut far deeper than any bear I had ever seen. Many of the smaller trees leaned over from its exertions, and birds did not sing in the place. Boulders and broken stones covered the top of the outcropping, and the trees on all sides were either broken, burned, or simply didn’t grow. The beast would know of our approach, if it didn’t already. I guessed that it lay concealed among the rocks, waiting.
“I don’t suppose you could just blast the beast,” suggested Iven to Pascalli when I pointed where the trail lead.
“I imagine I might, given time and a few Veldmen resources which I do not have on my person,” replied Pascalli.
“No use,” I said. “It’s likely resting now, but we would never get close enough without an attack, and anything like the Veldmen blasting powder would surely ignite if it sprays fire again.”
“Scratch, my boy,” cried Pascalli, as if in sudden surprise. “You’ve learned more sense in less time than I had ever hoped. Now if I could only convince you two to leave off this nonsense altogether I might believe you’ll live a long life.”
“Hush,” chided Iven.
“Hush yourself,” said Pascalli. “It already knows where we are.
He pointed to a small bird head, like an eagle that that peered over the rocks in our direction. The head was attached to some kind of reptilian neck, which I could not identify accurately from fifty meters.
“It’s a long shot but I think I can hit it,” I said, drawing my bow. Iven grunted his assent and Pascalli remained quiet for once, so I took the shot. The arrow flew straight and true, a much better shot than I had anticipated. Shooting birds can be tricky, especially without the proper ammunition but I trusted to luck with what I had. The arrow pierced the head and split it in half.
As the head fell apart, the neck began to flail wildly about as an ear-piercing screech shattered the air. A second eagle’s head rose up out of the rocks, followed by an enormous bull’s head. The creature jumped out of its hiding place and took cover behind rocks opposite us.
“After him boy,” bellowed Iven, and we charged up the incline as I fished for another arrow.
We reached the top and were greeted, not by a fierce melee of angry horns, but by the beast’s enormous horse rump, which erupted in a spout of searing flame.
“Look sharp lad,” cried Iven as he dodged the fire. I managed to guide my mount to safety just in time, but the heat singed my hair slightly.
The creature took advantage of that moment to whirl around and face us with its horns. The eagle head rose up and let out a scream like a woman in distress, and the great bull head snarled and roared like a bear. I had just enough presence of mind to shoot my arrow before grabbing my father’s spear. The arrow clattered harmlessly off of the creature’s skull. I aimed for the eye, but some instinct must have warned it to move and a last second twitch cost us a great deal of trouble.
Iven wasted no time jumping from his horse and wading in brandishing his hammer, until the beast reared up on its hind legs, showing powerful claws attached to lion-like fore-limbs. That move caught the smith off-guard. I had no intention of getting off my horse so easily. When it turned its attention to Iven I charged in with my short spear. The second eagle’s head must have noticed my move, for it positioned again to shoot fire. I sent the spear to stop the fire before it had a chance to burn us, and drove it as deep as I could. Now the beast roiled in pain and anguish. Some wisps of smoke and few small flames escaped. It began to lash about in every direction, seemingly unable to fight or run away. The screaming, so much like a woman being tortured wailed at us.
More out of pity than anger or fear I cut off the eagle head with my sword and then plunged it to the hilt into its heart.
Steam rolled out of the neck of the eagle’s head and some flames boiled past the bull’s tongue. My spear’s handle was forever blackened after that, but it was still as sturdy and strong as ever.
Pascalli rode up lazily after the fight complimenting loudly, “Well done, very well done indeed. You see, you didn’t need my help at all.” He surveyed the corpse with a knowing eye. “I see you’ve found your lost damsel, my friend.”
“You knew, didn’t you,” accused Iven angrily.
“I know a great many things,” replied Pascalli calmly. “I guess a great many more. You were in no real danger from that thing. No danger that could not be mended if chance fell the wrong way. I thought Scratch might enjoy the exercise.”
“What was that thing?” I asked.
“A leftover from the breaking. In ancient times misguided wizards spawned such things and when their masters perished they escaped into the wide world,” he said.
The creature had a small cave in that outcropping of rock, and from the top of that outcropping a person could stand and look over the entire valley below. The smoke of a homestead drifted into the clear sky from the valley. This marked the first habitation we had seen in since leaving the Veldmen to travel in the wild. Pascalli insisted that we look into the creature’s lair, but he didn’t want me to do it.
“It may have young, or it may have treasure, and as you said Iven, it may have a prisoner. If there are more of them in there I should like the comfort of knowing you two are not in my way. You two can wait out here or head down to the homestead. I’m sure that if you take the carcass with you they will be very much obliged and possibly offer us supper.”
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Nineteen
Back to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Seventeen
Posted by admin on January 23, 2009
The daily troubles of bills and gardens
Often bubble, nervous, up the listing drain
Whereon the moss hangs. Home? Hearth?
A furnace belching warmth. Carries, not
Alone, the cost, the ever inflating cost of growth.
Growing children, sprouting chores, children,
Loves, lives. Each taxes, leeches, begs, and we
Owing all, ever give. Until empty fills the breach.
Empty covers the dark. Empty warms the heart.
Empty where the passion fled for a gentler part.
Turning does not cease the strife nor lessen
The ever present grief. Flight delays, lies,
But gains no victory. Even hope must be slain
Before her horrid onslaught. Debt cankers,
Love chokes, distance grows, without healing.
Where then? Where lies salvation? In truth,
Only by fleeing from flight. Stand, face
The mirror that stares angry back. Build up today.
No trial withstands time. Let time bring peace
And carry forth tomorrow brighter than yesteryear.
Posted by admin on January 21, 2009
A turn and a twist over a soft moonbeam
Answers a quandary.
The light sparks somewhere deep
Raging energy.
She follows the vision, driven, tenacious
Passionately serene.
The voice, or song. The searching lust
Soothes away fear.
Whips aside webs of disillusion,
Banishes darkness, summons starlight,
In a forceful, unequivocal solution.
This answer that sparked in the night.
Posted by admin on January 19, 2009
The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.
Pascalli picked a trail south and west. At first I thought we might return to Havensod, but we veered west long before we came that far south. The snow in the mountains made travel difficult and slow. We were careful not to work hard enough to break a sweat lest the chill wind freeze the perspiration to our skin. As we came lower the weather warmed quickly until we found the snow beginning to melt into spring runoff.
Iven woke me early the morning after we broke the snowline. “Your training resumes now, lad,” he said. “We’re past the danger of freezing, so time to work again.” He pointed at Pascalli who stood by with the long sword he hid beneath his cloak.
“I’m certain you favor that spear, and I’ll show you a trick or two in time, but the sword is a gentleman’s weapon and it’s time you began to learn,” said the wizard. I began to retrieve my sword, but he stopped me. “Not yet.” Iven handed me a stick with the bark removed. “Stand here facing me and mirror my motions. First the stance, then the forms, and eventually the footwork. When you’ve mastered that you can hold a real blade.”
Though I had seen plenty of drills and understood the basics of any blade, Pascalli treated me as a complete novice. He corrected the tiniest flaw in my posture or position until I felt I knew nothing of fighting at all. Each day I practiced before the sunrise and each evening after we made camp. Coupled with the practice I followed the daily routine of cooking and maintaining the camp, although Iven helped when Pascalli wasn’t watching.
“The day will come when neither Iven nor I will be here to watch you,” warned Pascalli. “It will take us at least until next summer to reach Darnuth Keep. You’ve only until then to learn what takes most men many winters.”
As I drilled the forms and mimicked his footwork, Pascalli recounted the great stories of the empire and the lands beyond. At first I found them entertaining, but I soon learned he wanted me to memorize them as well. As we rode along I retold dozens of battles until my head filled with names and places beyond reckoning.
We struck west and south, until we reached a low valley with a few scattered homesteads. We had managed to find enough game to sustain us, and Pascalli did not wish to see anyone just yet, so we took turns watching the darkness at the edge of camp.
“The Eastern Watch, or at the very least the local governors will be looking for us,” said Pascalli as we warmed ourselves from the chill mountain air. “I don’t want you to be found just yet.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because they will try to rob you of your destiny, my boy,” he replied more firmly than I expected.
“What do you care about my destiny? So far you’ve done nothing but use me as a servant,” I said.
Pascalli laughed. He always laughed at the least expected moment. “True enough Scratch. Right you are. Trapped between two old men with nothing but concern we’ve smothered the life out of you. Still, we’ve our reasons for expecting so much from you.”
“What kind of reasons?”
“The kind you’ll not understand,” he said. He saw the disappointment and hurt in me. “I’ll explain what I can,” he said after a moment. “Your father left his quest unfinished.”
“I know that,” I replied.
“He bargained with Tylos, a bargain that cannot be broken. I’m going to see that you fulfill that bargain,” he said.
“And I don’t get a choice?” I said.
“Every man has a choice, except those whom the gods have chosen. I’ll not promise to be an easy teacher, or to make you comfortable. Torbridge and the fools he serves would do that, and by so doing they would leave you unprepared. Tylos will demand her service, just as the Veldmen demanded theirs. The governors and regents will bicker and squabble. Some would raise you to lead their armies, others would have you killed or imprisoned,” he said.
“What will you do with me?” I asked.
“I will take you to Darnuth Keep when you are ready. There you can begin to do the work that I cannot do,” he answered.
“Enough of the heavy talk,” Iven said suddenly. “We’re still in the wild, and some of the wildest wild there is, so stay alert.” I perked up my ears and listened, but there was nothing beyond the sounds of night and our fire popping lazily. Too much pitch in the wood.
“Right you are, my friend,” said Pascalli with a laugh. “Wake me for my watch.” Pascalli wrapped himself in his blankets and dozed off quickly. I looked into the shadows or watched the stars, careful to keep my eyes away from the fire where the light would momentarily blind me in case of an emergency.
“Where are you going, Iven?” I asked him. I had never before thought to ask what he planned to do or why he was with us. “I know you hadn’t meant to stay with Pascalli all this time.”
“Fair enough, lad,” he answered, and for the first time his voice was soft, not just a whisper, but gentle as a warm blanket soothing out the cold. “I hope to go home to a family I’ve not seen since nearly a winter before Havensod. I’ve a wife, Whinnie, and though my boys are grown men now, I miss them. I left things unsettled in my haste. My forge is missing me.”
“You speak of your forge as a person,” I said.
“In a way it was for me. I was younger than you when I first learned the trade. Barely old enough to wipe my own nose. I nearly broke my back a time or two, but I learned early on to watch the masters at work. I had a place in Dynwater for a time until I earned a commission with Lord Nandurak of Anascrag.”
“When he died I fell out of favor, but I kept the place. It is the finest shop in the empire. I had four apprentices there besides my four sons who have also learned the trade. The garrison at Anascrag has the best tools for making war anywhere in the empire, except perhaps for the Veldmen. I developed a kind of armor connected with steel plates so light and perfectly balanced a man properly fitted can stand on his head in it and yet it can turn even arrows.”
He seemed lost as he spoke, and I knew he remembered better times.
“Why did you leave?” My curiosity was insatiable, but I think that night it came as a relief to the smith.
“Pascalli appeared in Anascrag and asked me to travel east to help the army. I knew Pascalli when I was your age, when I was apprentice to Master Steelhander the armorer to the emperor. I learned my trade from the best, and much of that has passed to you. My sons know well the basics, but I’ve yet to show them some of the tricks to folding steel. I’d like to pass on that trick the Veldmen do to cover one metal with another under water. But I’ve sense to listen to the wizard, and my Whinnie had sense enough of duty and love for the land to let me go. So now I’m here, like you far from home in the wild.”
“I hope you get to go home soon,” I said. I know I wanted to say more to him, to take advantage of that one tender moment, but I saw something in the darkness moving, a flicker of reflected eyes and a deep shadow. The shape appeared too large for a wild cat, too large for a dog even, but slanted and unlike a bear. I turned to Iven, but he had seen it as well and put a finger to his lips then knocked an arrow. I did the same and edged closer to the fire where Pascalli slept.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Eighteen
Back to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Sixteen
Posted by admin on January 16, 2009
Fried rice and beans
Wrapped around frustrated dreams.
I sit and eat.
My woes disappear around my waist.
Too slow. Too fast.
Nothing keeps the pace of my hopes.
The thing about running a blog is that some days you just post stuff – even if it isn’t your best work. I’m not sure where I was going with this poem and then it ran out of gas, left me stranded on a highway and ran off with someone driving a better car.
Posted by admin on January 14, 2009
I have always found it odd how a person never truly gets used to discomfort. I didn’t like starving any better after having starved, eaten, and starving again. I didn’t like fighting any better after having learned to do it properly either. In fact, I would go as far as to say I just don’t like being uncomfortable in any way, but in particular I don’t like being cold and wet and hungry while hunting a pack of vicious beast-men. My companion, a small, yet unnervingly vicious, boar-dog (what else do you call a failed wizard’s experiment), seemed equally annoyed at both the weather and the mission. “You must warn the King,” my master had told me, “the Horde is moving.” That was before we discovered this scouting party, and now I had two missions to accomplish (discounting the part about staying alive).
The tracks were easy enough to follow in the light snow of early spring. Two years of hunting these beasts from place to place had trained me well to know their marks. “Do you smell them, Grunter?” I asked. She raised her tusked head in response, and let out a soft whining grunt. “I know, they aren’t far now. We’ll catch them tonight, in the light of the moon.” Grunter wagged her squiggly tail with excitement, and dashed ahead along their trail. We had not gone far when I spied a lone buck scouring the hillside for food. My first instinct was to draw my bow and get some food, but I knew that it would only slow me down, and that I had to stop the scouting party before they reached the mountains proper. I knew better than to chase the horde into the mountains, in their own festering realm; that would be a task for another day.
True to form, I found them just after sundown. Two days without sleep, and nothing but a night of violence to look forward to. Unfortunately, as fate would have it, I wasn’t able to catch them in the wild as I had hoped. We were close to a village, and the beasts had discovered one of the outlying farms. I found them by the light of the fire where the barn was burning, and the sound of the violent screams, of torture and battle.
From their tracks, I knew that there were at least six in the group, and from experience I doubted there were more than ten. Grunter saw the fires and noise, and charged into the fray before I could stop her. I hesitated only long enough to loosen my sword and string my bow. Darkness was my ally at the moment. I could see their black shapes easily in the firelight. Two were busy slaughtering animals as they fled the barn. I could hear the others in the farmhouse. I lodged an arrow in the nearest beast-man’s breast, and hit the second in the left leg as he charged. These beasts are vicious when cornered, or in numbers; but wounded and alone they tend to flee, as this one did, to wander off and die alone and painfully in the cold hills.
I ran to the house. Inside I could hear Grunter’s barking and grunting as she grappled with her foes. I heard the sounds of metal clanging, and knew that someone was putting up a fight. I cast my bow aside and drew my sword as I entered through the already destroyed farmhouse door. Inside I found the farmer and his two children, a young man and woman fighting with the four beasts. The good wife was already lying on the floor, and the humans had sustained several wounds. The nearest beast had a large gash in his arm and leg, and was not able to turn and react as I finished him. In his shock at seeing my entrance, the farmer’s son dropped his guard, and a beast-man tackled him, quickly rending out his life with his claws. The two others turned to face me, and used their weight and strength to force me back out the door, where we could fight on open ground. Pasav, my master, and Borlock, my good friend had taught me through daily drills over the past few years how best to deal with both beasts and men, and stiff experience had confirmed their teaching on several occasions. I felled the first as he stepped from the farmhouse, and the second put up only a meager fight before I removed his claws and head. I re-entered the farmhouse to find the daughter struggling to keep the final beast at bay with a broken chair. He either didn’t see me enter, or didn’t care, as I was able to dispatch him without effort.
The farmhouse was the shambles, a mess of blood and broken clutter. The barn burned freely, although we managed to save a horse and an ox, and most of the chickens escaped alive. We worked hard to save the livestock and grain before I remembered to ask her name.
“Alandra,” she said, stifling back both grief and fear.
“I am Kyven,” I told her. “I am sorry that I did not catch them sooner.”
“So am I,” she replied. Her face was covered in soot and dust, hiding the fading freckles of youth and covering the soft highlights of hair that would have been a soft blonde; but even the tattered and dirty rags could not hide her girlish figure just on the brink of womanhood.
“Where is your shovel,” I asked.
“We have a shed for tools and things, I’ll go and get it.”
“Take your time. Just get it and bring it here. I will bury them behind the house.” She left for the shed, and I began the gruesome work of dragging the bodies to the back of the farmhouse. The beast-men I simply heaved onto the burning timbers of the barn, unceremoniously removing their weapons and boots as I went. I found Alandra weeping near the farmhouse door, and my heart felt about to burst with grief and sorrow. I knew the pain of losing a father, and I would never forget the day I left my starving mother to join a war I still don’t understand.
“I don’t have a tent or other shelter,” I told her, “and it would not be wise to leave here tonight.” She looked at me with glazed eyes, hardly hearing or seeing. “I noticed the house has more than one room, why don’t you get some sleep. I will bury your family, and if you have a god, you can reverence them in the morning.” She did not seem to want to move, so I lifted her and helped her into the house and past the violence to a room with a bed. I had tried to clean the blood and mess, but nothing I could do would ever remove all the signs of violence.
I spent several hours in the night digging graves. The ground was hard and my limbs worn, but I knew that we would need to leave the farm in the morning. Kindness does not come easily to me, I lived a hard life, but I knew that I must help Alandra, if only in part to repay the kindness my master had shown me. Some few hours before dawn, I collapsed next to Grunter, wrapping my cloak around me for warmth near the still warm embers of the barn.
The day dawned bright and clear and warm, the first of the true spring, the spring that brings the flowers and new life. As luck would have it, the farm was still rather well stocked for the winter, and I enjoyed a good meal. I often fancied myself a cook (after all Pasav couldn’t cook edible food to save his life) but Alandra showed me that I would need more than a campfire to rival the great chefs of the world. Grunter was cheerful; still exhilarated from the events of the night, and continuously bounced and sought affection. A night’s sleep had done a great deal to calm Alandra, and she and Grunter became quick friends. But the uncertainty of losing her home and family loomed heavily on her mind. After the morning meal she went to the graves and commended their souls to eternity. I watched and waited in silent patience.
“Alandra,” I asked, “do you have any relatives in the village?”
“No,” she replied. “My family was new to this valley. We came here, to Amsterhome, after the last war with the Horde. Where are you going, Kyven?”
“I am taking a message to the King, and then I suppose I will return to the Keep of the Black Crag.”
“Where is that?”
“West, and North, in a pass high in the mountains. The King is to the east, I have never been there before.”
“Me either. Can I come with you?”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to put her into danger, and I didn’t want to have to take care of her. The mountains were dangerous, and the going would be hard and slow. She noticed my hesitation, and my eyes must have betrayed my feelings.
“I can cook, and I know how to work hard. I won’t slow you down. We can take the horse, and we can sell the ox and the farm in the village. We can bring the chickens and I have blankets and supplies.” I had lived a solitary life the past few years, and the few women who now lived in the Keep were certainly older than Alandra, but they seemed to share her need to chatter, and the tendency to jabber when they felt nervous.
“We will see what we can find in the village,” I said. She broke a half smile, and I continued. “There may be a place where you can stay and work.” Her smile disappeared. “The mountains are dangerous.” She glared at me and crossed her arms, and I felt suddenly small and weak. “I won’t leave you stranded,” I said at last. “If there is nothing in the village, then you can travel with me until we find something better.”
Alandra did not seem totally convinced at my compromise, but she didn’t argue much either. “Don’t just stand there like dolt,” she said, “help me get my things together, and round up the horse.”
I complied without question. Of all the things I knew, I knew how to follow directions best. The Keep was a large place, and required a great deal of cleaning, especially after fighting off the previous inhabitants, and Pasav made entirely sure that I was familiar with both broom and mop. Before noon we had packed the horse with sufficient provisions to last several weeks, and bound everything else of value to the ox, and were on our way to Amsterhome.
Amsterhome was just a simple village then, not yet grown, and had but one in and a shop that supplied the farmers. We traded what we could for gold and clothes. Alandra had no boots, and she refused to wear those I had taken from the beast-men. Their weapons brought a nice price, a fine horse; and the village constable treated me with great kindness after hearing the story. I cautioned him to post sentinels to watch the foothills since more scouting parties might come from the mountains; a piece of advice he took to heart in the weeks and months to come. Although there were many willing to take Alandra in, she refused to stay, insisting that there was nothing left for her in the village, and that she didn’t feel right about just taking their charity. I must admit I enjoyed having someone to talk to (if only once in a while), and Grunter would have been upset to see her go.
Harperston was several days’ journey east of Amsterhome, but a winding road eventually met up with a winding road that eventually turned into a winding highway patrolled by the King’s guard and repaired by the King’s serfs. We followed that winding road together. I had studied the maps of the northern kingdom, sometimes referred to as the Old Empire, and knew that we would pass through many villages and farms. Since I had accomplished the first part of my journey, this second leg seemed a joy in comparison, and our hearts were light and easy.
Alandra and I quickly became good friends. It seems the gods have always blessed me with good companions. She was merry, even when speaking of sad things, and told me of her family, and the struggle they had fought to earn some bread from the stubborn soil. I recounted to her my days of smithing and of following my master, Pasav, the sometimes haphazard wizard. “I don’t believe in magic,” she said, and seemed disappointed when I told her that I was not a wizard and didn’t know any magic.
“I know how to sweep and clean,” I told her, “and I thought I knew how to cook until I met you.”
“You also know how to fight,” she said, “and that is something very few know how to do.”
“A useless skill,” I replied. “There is no glory in death, and besides, I don’t like it. I prefer to hunt game in the woods, or help with experiments in the laboratory. At least then I know I’m not going to get killed, and usually there is food around.” Alandra laughed wildly at my remarks, but I failed to see the humor, after all I was a simple person.
We reached the King’s Road ten days after leaving Amsterhome. We struck north, and within a few hours the landscape began to change. The haphazard farms turned into well-groomed fields surrounded by low rock fences and crowned with large farmhouses and fine barns. Hedges sported spring growth, and traffic on the road thickened with each step. My eyes darted everywhere to take in the new sights, and Alandra gasped at every bright color and new sound. Neither of us had ever seen a nobleman’s carriage before, nor seen a courtier dressed in their fine clothes. Those who saw us generally gave way, as I sported a sword, and we had horses to ride. The majority of the peasants were as dirty and ragged as those I had always known, and the only horses they used were those on the farm. Grunter drew more than a handful of stares and gasps of surprise, and she seemed thoroughly content to puff out her chest and strut next to the horses playing queen of the road. Once we passed a group of men bound at the throat in steel collars to a line of chain. “Who are they,” asked Alandra, “what have they done?”
“Pasav told me about the slaves that they bring from the southern lands. They bring them here to toil on the roads and keeps, and to serve the mighty warlords. Some, of course, are simply criminals; thieves and robbers.”
Alandra’s face turned suddenly cold and thoughtful. I looked at the slaves, and noted their dirty blonde hair, a stark contrast to the dark browns and blacks that dotted the heads of most people we met. “My grandparents came from the south,” she said, “or so my mother used to tell me. Your hair is light as well, Kyven, she said, although not as light as mine.”
“I come from Craverton,” I replied, “a starving village, crushed by war. I do not know anything else. I am from the Keep of the Black Crag now.”
The paved highway led straight to the wide city gates at the south end of Harperston. Tall, sturdy buildings loomed over us from behind the city wall. From inside the gate we could see a mighty castle rising on the far end of the city. I supposed that if we were to find the King we should go there, so we made our way along the main street until we came to the castle gate.
A balding, stout man in a uniform sat on a little stool in the shade of the archway of the castle gate, and watched our approach with amusement. The gate itself was flung wide open, a large construction of oak and steel. The castle wall was a good four meters tall, build of stone and mortar; just as impressive as the Keep of the Black Crag. A few soldiers wandered the battlements, but in general the fortress carried a calm, sleepy feeling.
When he realized that we actually wanted to enter the fortress, the guard stood up and blocked our way. “Now what would yourselves be wanting in there,” he asked.
I had not often dealt with men, but I knew that most were stupid, and rest easily swayed; and I had a mission to complete. I removed a small medallion Pasav had given me, and showed it to the guard. “Lord Pasav, my master, sends me with a message to the King.”
The guard chuckled, “Oh, Lord Pasav, now. And where from does the mighty lord hail?”
If every guard was going to be this much trouble, I decided, I might just as well go home. “From the Keep of the Black Crag,” I replied calmly. “It is an urgent matter, regarding the continued onslaught of the horde.”
The mention of the Horde seemed to take the guard back a step, and he scratched his head a moment. “Hey Garf,” he called, and a scrawny man in a dirty uniform appeared from a door just inside the archway. “Watch ‘ese two a moment, will ya’. I’m gone to get his Lordship Sirus.” Garn appeared as disinterested in us as we were with him, and he took his place silently on the stool and drooped his head for a nap.
Three quarters of an hour later, the chubby guard returned followed closely by a tall, wiry fellow clothed in a long black robe with silver trim. This new gentleman appeared as sour and stern as a constipated gargoyle, and his voice was both stiff and sharp.
“You have a message from the wanderer Pasav?” he inquired.
“Yes,” I replied, “it is for the king.”
“Then give it to me, and I shall take it to the king.” It was not a question, simply an order delivered to an underling. Grunter barked and growled, and Alandra rolled her eyes.
“My directions were explicit,” I answered. “I must deliver it to the king in person. Not to anyone else, and especially not to anyone claiming to be able to take it to him.”
The stern exterior cracked a little as he placed his fingertips on his temples and closed his eyes. After a moment he opened them again. “Very well, wait here with the guard, and I will speak to the chamberlain.”
Three quarters of an hour later, a man in a fine silk shirt and fine trousers, leaning on a stout oak staff and wearing a thick leather purse made his way towards the gate. He was of average height and build, but his smile was contagious and made his otherwise plain face more attractive than it should have been. “I understand you would like an audience with the King,” he said as he approached.
“Yes,” I said shortly, “I have traveled these weeks from the Keep of the Black Crag to bring it.”
“And your tokens?”
Again I removed the silver medallion and showed it to the chamberlain.
“Very well, if you will give me the message . . . ” he caught my scowl mid-way through the sentence, and quickly changed tactics. “The guard will see to your weapons and your horses, come with me.”
We followed him through the outer courtyard, which was more like a little village in itself, with smithies and various shops inside crafting supplies for the soldiers. The inhabitants seemed oblivious to our presence, despite our frequent staring and wide eyes at all we saw. “There are more shops in this courtyard than people in my entire village,” commented Alandra at one point. Eventually we came to a small room, with a fine polished pine table, a sofa, and four cushioned pine chairs.
“Wait here, and the steward will come and get you soon,” directed our guide and then vanished out the door.
A quarter of an hour later, a young woman with yellow hair and a dirty, long, black dress appeared holding a tray filled with cups and cakes. She seemed taken aback by our appearance, but nevertheless stated, “Would your Lordship and Ladyship care for any tea and cakes while you wait?” Alandra looked at me, and I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t imagine they were trying to poison us, and after the things Pasav had tried to feed me, I couldn’t imagine this would be worse.
I smiled, and said, “yes.” Alandra, sensing a person of her own status, began to bombard the girl with a myriad of questions as she poured the tea and served us. Her name was Anlaw, and she was indeed from the southern lands. Her family was captured in ‘the war’ and she was purchased as a house slave to work here in the castle. Anlaw seemed overwhelmed by the attention and retreated as quickly as possible into the depths of the fortress kitchens.
Three quarters of an hour later, the door opened, and short man with a long gray beard, clad in a silk shirt and fine trousers said, “Come with me please. His majesty is rather busy, but has granted you an audience.”
We followed him to yet another room, not much different from the first, except that the table was much larger, and there were several more chairs. At the head of the table sat a powerfully built man with a short-cut beard, streaked with gray. His head bore a thin gold circlet, and a great sword hung at his side. Pasav taught me to bow when I met the king, and to show respect, so I did. Alandra followed my lead, and we waited for him to rise and address us.
“Very well then,” he said. “Stand up and give me your message.”
We stood up, and I removed a roll of parchment and handed it to the king. The seal of the Keep was still intact, and the king seemed amused at seeing this. “So, the Keep is alive again,” he asked.
“Yes, majesty,” I said, “Pasav, Borlock, and I have worked hard to put it in order.
“So, Kirien’s steward is more than just a legend. Did you hear that Lars,” laughed the King, “legends are coming to life again. Indeed, the times are changing. Now, lets see what we have.” He cracked the seal and unrolled the parchment. I did not know the full content of the letter, but I know it contained a great deal of important news. The king studied it with particular intent, and then asked, “Did you have anything else to report, Kyven?”
For a moment I was taken aback that he knew my name, but I quickly regained my composure. “I tracked and killed a scouting group for the horde, eleven days ride west of here, at a farm near the village of Amsterhome.” The king raised an eyebrow at my statement, but seemed to brush the information away as inconsequential.
“And do you know the contents of this letter?”
“No, your majesty.”
The king let out a long and loud laugh then. “That is just like Pasav, send the poor boy on an errand he knows nothing about. Very well, we shall make the shock a complete one, for all parties involved. Let us retire to the royal court.” He seemed to muse for just a moment, and then shook his head, “no, better they appear as they are, give all my kin a surprise they won’t forget. Lars, summon my court. Ring the alarm. Pasav has decided to provide us with some entertainment.”
Somehow the glee in the King’s voice did not provide me with any comfort. Lars quickly swooped us together, and pushed us out of the room. As we were leaving, I heard the king say, “Lars, fetch the boy’s sword, he will need it.”
A short time later we found ourselves standing before a dais, atop the which sat a pair of large thrones. A middle-aged woman who would have been stunningly beautiful in her youth, with long black hair now streaked with silver sat in the smaller chair. At either end of the dais were somewhat smaller chairs, filled with young men and women bearing a striking resemblance to the King and Queen. All around us people in finely dressed clothes were forming ranks along the walls. The hall was a great bustle of chatter as people tried to guess what was afoot, and we were the subject of many stares and sideway glances. After a time trumpets rang out, announcing the arrival of the king, and quickly silencing all the chatter.
The king entered, now bearing a larger crown on his head, and dressed with a flowery robe of state, crested with a lion and eagle, the symbols of the empire. When the King spoke, his voice was calm, yet tinged with humor, and the entire hall received his words in abject silence. “My lords and ladies, the time of legends is upon us. Our fathers unleashed evil upon this world, and now we are beginning to remove it. Before you now we have a champion in this great cause. I present Lord Kyven of the Keep of the Black Crag, Knight of the Old Empire.” A stir shook the room at his words, and more than one gasp of surprise. “And as a knight, Count Kyven has exercised his right to accuse my champion, the Lord Dracum and general of my armies of treason to the crown for sloth in the exercise of his duty to eliminate the forces of the horde.” Now the courtroom erupted with shock and anger. More than one foul word reached my ears, and more than once I felt myself becoming angry. I took Alandra’s hand and shrugged. I could see the questions on her face, and the fear, but I had no answers. I gave her the most re-assuring look I could and waited for the moment to pass. A trumpet rang out and the hall became quiet again. A large man, clad in armor for battle stepped out to stand next to me near the dais. He smelled of ale and sweat, and the scowl on his face froze my heart. “A trial of single combat will decide his guilt or innocence,” said the King.
Dracum’s voice was deep and heavy as he addressed his liege. “You majesty, these charges are false and foolish. I have lived my life in service to the crown and dedicated it to the destruction of the horde. What proofs does this boy offer?”
The king took on a slight smile as he replied. “The charge has been stated, and the sentenced passed, but I shall humor you. Three years ago did you not face the armies of the Horde near a village here within my own province?”
“Yes, my lord, of course,” stammered Dracum, “and they were destroyed.”
“Indeed, they were destroyed, and so was your army, was it not?”
“Well. That was that bungling meddler. I warned him not to interfere.”
The king’s tongue turned sharp as a razor. “You were ordered to cooperate with the wizards, were you not?” Dracum made no reply. “Indeed, it is our tradition to fight the wizard’s curse with the wizard’s weapons. He delivered a warning to you that day as well, a warning you ignored. Thousands of men burned that day and joined the horde, and today the Count of the Keep of the Black Crag has come to challenge your allegiance and test it with the sword.”
“Very well,” said the General, “I do not wish to destroy the boy, but if that is your will. My sword,” he boomed, and shocked silence penetrated the court. A page’s footsteps were heard running to the door.
My heart sunk. Was I doomed to always wield a sword? I did not wish to die here, before Alandra, with a sword in my hand, in dirty clothes before people I did not know. I could only trust that my master would not have me killed without cause, although what good my death would bring I did not know.
In a few minutes, the page returned, bearing a broadsword of the finest quality. Lars took Alandra by the arm and escorted her to a chair at the edge of the dais, away from the combatants. “Remove your armor,” stated the chamberlain. “The boy has none, and the rules of etiquette state equal ground. The combatants are granted a moment to prepare their estates and settle their affairs.”
Having no one else to turn to, I went to Alandra and said, “I’m sorry I brought you here. I didn’t know I was just coming here to be killed.”
Alandra cried and hugged me close and whispered, “you aren’t dead yet, Kyven. You saved me once, I’m sure you can save yourself now. What was it that you say Pasav always told you? Fighting is a job best done quickly. Anyone who can kill six beast-men can surely handle one fat dullard.” She gave me a wink and a smile, and I knew Pasav hadn’t sent me here to be killed.
“Combatants approach,” rang the chamberlain’s voice. I obediently took my place before the dais. “No quarter shall be given. Cowardice punished with death.” Two meters away stood my new enemy, gripping his sword and cursing under his breath. A trumpet rang out and the general was on me in an instant.
His blows came like lightning, but I danced away easily, letting my sword direct his energy safely away. “The key to single combat, Kyven,” always said Borlock, “Is patience and cunning. You have to wait for the mistake and wear the opponent down. Constantly attack but never over commit.” As usual I followed the advice I received, never allowing the larger man to use his full arsenal of attacks by forcing him to defend. We fought back and forth for several minutes, neither gaining an advantage, until his face was drenched in sweat and his beard clung to his face and head. Now he kept his guard only through shear determination, but his attacks had become both infrequent and ineffectual. I recognized now the cold calculation I had seen on Pasav’s face in so many past encounters. I understood the endless drilling and why battle after battle Pasav had made me chase beasts from the Keep at sword point rather than using his magic. There was a job here to do, no different than sweeping the kitchen cellars, and no more difficult. I allowed my foe to overextend, and danced aside. Without passion or malice I brought my sword down on his neck, once more realizing how much I hated fighting.
THE END
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
Posted by admin on January 12, 2009
The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.
On feast days to Moalthor I was given time to visit my companions, though at first I barely had energy talk. Iven appeared as tired as me but Pascalli always looked as fresh as though he hadn’t lifted a finger. During the rest of the cycle I saw them only rarely. If an errand took us to another place of work we could chat for a short moment. Otherwise we took our leisure with the Veldmen.
“I don’t understand how you manage it, old man,” said Iven as we lazed near a glowing coal fire.
“The trick is understanding perfectly the task you have been given,” replied Pascalli. “After a few more lifetimes you will come to understand it the same way I have. Besides, they do not have me swinging a hammer or shoveling coal. Vrashnil is much more interested in the knowledge I have not chosen to share with the rest of the world.”
“That I can understand,” replied the smith. “The machines they have here are beyond my grasp. I’ve never seen the like. They mix alloys of iron and other metals that I had not seen before. I understand the forging of steel, and how to mix bronze as well as a half dozen different ways to weld and pull wire, but nearly all of it is done by hand with hard labor. I’ve never seen iron wire turned so neatly. All of it so uniform with no kinks or breaks along the line.”
“Open your eyes, then,” said Pascalli. “There’s nothing magic about it. No mysterious secret. By and large it is the power of coal and steam that turn their engines. They’ve a better annealing process than you have, and they understand that lime makes a better lubricant for wire than the oils you are accustomed to.”
“I watched Torsith repair the automatic hammer he uses,” I said. “There is a cylinder inside a cylinder, and a number of wheels that turn when the cylinders move. Or perhaps only one of them moves. That is what makes the motion for the hammer.”
“You’ve a keen eye, lad,” agreed Iven. “Perhaps you can help me make drawings of the machines when we leave.” After that I tried extra hard to learn the ways of the Veldmen and understand exactly what Torsith and his apprentices did.
I ate at the forge, drank while gathering ore, and slept again near the warm coals. After completing his two cycles of service Pascalli managed to convince Vrashnil that I should spend half the day every-other day at the equally rigorous torture of training my spear with the Veldmen guards who spent their entire lives learning the use of the weapon and perfecting that skill.
“The Barak-dun may come,” said Pascalli. “The boy has some skill with his spear and you may find his help welcome. Besides, your guards could use the practice against our foreign fighting style.”
At times I thought of the wide world above ground. I thought of my farm and family in Dunston. I even wondered at times what Laural might be doing, if she ever escaped the Blue Dragon. I felt caught in a dream hidden from the sun. When I mentioned this to Pascalli he laughed quietly.
“You’re beginning to change, Scratch,” he said. “One day you’ll look into a stream and not recognize who you’ve become.”
The many markets of practice with Iven and Pascalli as we journeyed in the wild prepared me well for my time with the Veldmen guards. After only two more cycles their captain allowed me to train with the regular guards. Many times I thought I would collapse from the exhaustion, but a healthy draught of a wine they make from fungus brought me back to my senses so that I could finish the day.
“The Barak-dun, or people of stone as they call themselves, may attack during the winter,” warned Pascalli as we rested during Moalthor’s holiday. “They are intelligent creatures, similar in many ways to the Kaarum, but much more organized and dangerous.”
“Where do they live?” I asked.
“They have many tunnels and caves throughout the mountains, though generally farther north. I believe they may have a loose alliance with the Kaarum far beyond the Northern Crown.”
“What do they look like?” I asked. Pascalli had a way of exciting my curiosity.
“Like short yellow or green, hairless men. You will have no trouble recognizing them.”
Some sixty days into this nightmare, just as my body had adjusted to the rhythm of the work and rest, the Barak-dun attacked the city as Pascalli had foreseen. As an honorary member of their guard I came immediately to defend a tunnel at the far end of the city. All lights extinguished at once. Though I have never found a creature that can see in such absolute darkness, the Veldmen have ears and noses as keen as a dog’s. I neither heard nor smelled the enemies approaching, but I felt the soldier next to me tense and I knew they were upon us.
At the captain’s order someone struck a small spark for light and we all leapt into action. The Barak-dun fought viciously according to their nature. They had tipped their spears with sticky venom gathered from fungi. A companion next to me fell instantly after a cut in the shoulder during our ambush. He clutched in agony at the burning, bleeding flesh. To my own surprise I summoned the discipline to ignore him for the moment and sent my father’s spear into one target’s chest. Their armor appeared to have been scavenged from fallen enemies for it did not seem to fit properly, and offered little protection against our far superior weapons. My height and reach gave me an unexpected advantage that I quickly put to good use.
I am glad to say that the battle ended on a victorious note for the most part. Unfortunately two of the wounded were dragged away when the Barak-dun retreated.
“What will happen to them?” I asked Pascalli as we counted the missing.
“The Barak-dun will sacrifice them to Wolfar,” replied Vrashnil sadly.
“Can’t we do something?” I asked. “If we hurry we can still catch them.”
“You are willing to try to find them?” asked Vrashnil. “Why?”
“We can’t just abandon them.” I didn’t know what else to say. I had never before considered leaving a comrade behind.
“Who will join him?” asked the king. “Who will bring our brothers back?”
Pascalli immediately offered his services, as did Iven. “I shall not have you wandering these great halls unsupervised,” snorted Pascalli indignantly. Of the Veldmen, only their High Captain, Lagathin offered his spear.
By Lagathin’s calculations the Barak-dun would again celebrate their holy sacrifices in four days. The Barak-dun did not often build their own tunnels, but rather used natural caverns or stole the tunnels of the Veldmen. Unless they had made some new route, Lagathin could track them without a problem. I had no idea how we would enter their holding unnoticed and leave again with the prisoners.
I don’t know what sort of a leader I made on that silly adventure, no-one ever bothered to tell me if I did well or not. Pascalli offered no suggestions, insight, or help of any kind other than to say, “We’ll need plenty of luck.”
Three days later we sneaked up on the Barak-dun guards. Apparently the Veldmen did not have a practice of making war in return because the guards were lazy to the point of absurdity. Even when they clearly heard Iven stumble in the passageway, they argued amongst themselves rather than sending someone to find us. Those four we dispatched unawares and without trouble. The hundreds inside their village remained a distinct problem.
Not much burns underground, at least not without some planning and forethought. I did not have an amazing plan, but the one I put together on the spot worked reasonably well. For flammables we had a certain quantity of oil, some alcohol, some fungus from which the oil was derived, and four corpses. I am not proud to say that I defiled the dead, not even the dead of a race as foul as the Barak-dun, but I did. We lit the bodies into a full blaze and each of us dragging one charged into the city. Then we cast them aside, careful not to smother the flames and in the confusion looked for our captive comrades. Such a smothering ruckus and echo I hoped never to see or hear or feel again. The odor overwhelmed the senses, causing Barak-dun women and children to flee in terror and agony and even their stoutest warriors to vomit. Aided by the cover of smoke we escaped detection until our wise captive companions found us. At the first sound of confusion they had run from their captors, who merely stood guard with spears and had not bound them for lack of ropes or chains. Together we made a final run to the exit and kept sprinting lest the sure pursuit overtake us. Veldmen are a stout race but not one for winning contests of speed.
Such a tale among the Veldmen had not often been told before, and Torsith made me recount it again and again as I returned to the forge. Vrashnil rewarded us all handsomely with any trinkets we desired and told Pascalli that his debt had been repaid more times than could be counted. I replaced my chain shirt with one of much finer quality, such as would turn the blades of most spears and swords without taking the least dent or scratch. At Torsith’s forge I learned the strength of patience and the value of steady effort. Under Lagathin’s careful eye my skill with the spear developed into a love of tactics in motion. Though I took with me a pocket full of gold and silver and enough memories to fill a lifetime, the greatest treasure I realized came from the knowledge Pascalli so carefully bought with my labor.
I blinked stupidly when I first stepped back into the cold sunlight. Though winter still gripped the high lands, I knew that lower down spring must be close. Torsith’s forge melted into a kind memory as I mounted my horse once more. I breathed in the fresh mountain air and pointed my horse after Pascalli.
“Back at it, then Scratch,” said Pascalli. “A boy never grew into a man by blinking away the sunlight.”
After the Veldmen, Pascalli took a more focused approach to my training. Each day we focused on specific topics rather than fill my head with generalities. “We’re returning to the realm of men. You will need to learn how to deal with men as men if you wish to survive.”
“How?” I asked.
“Practice, of course.” The wizard winked. “We’ve a great many roads to travel before we reach our destination. Between now and then we’ll find many ways for you to learn.”
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Seventeen
Back to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Fifteen
Posted by admin on January 9, 2009
On a summer day I saw your face,
Glowing brightly in the sunshine.
We met and talked and walked a pace.
Your eyes glowing in the moonlight.
Somewhere my heart drifted away,
Caught up in your sweet embrace.
I loved you then as I love you today.
You still set my heart to race.
Though turmoil brew and trouble daunt,
I cannot flee from our sacred haunts.
You call to me, the memory of summer days.
On A Summer Day audio
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
